


Correspondence

by iscarion



Category: Final Fantasy IX
Genre: Dirty Letters, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 09:56:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20424068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iscarion/pseuds/iscarion
Summary: Steiner is requested at General Beatrix's quarters, although he is unsure as to why.





	Correspondence

Somehow it always had to do with letters.

There had been months of chaste afternoons and polite correspondence since they returned from the Outer Continent. They had passive glances, the slight brush of a hand against flesh, but never anything of substance. Nothing too vulgar. He wished for something less chaste in their relationship but the impropriety of such base thoughts kept him at bay and to his own devices. It was necessary to maintain discretion between them. At least it had been until the general’s last letter. It had manifested in his quarters while on patrol. It was a note, to meet with the general in her quarters, after his shift that evening, in his civilian clothes. He had his suspicions as to the nature of this meeting, most of the scenarios ending with his head in his hands alone in his quarters. Captain Steiner stood before the heavy hardwood door of her chambers. He had been to General Beatrix’s quarters before, but never in such capacity as this evening

He rapped his knuckles on the door to her rooms. He was uncomfortably light without his plate mail. Vulnerable.

”Come in.” The general’s voice emanated from the other side. 

Beyond the threshold the room was lit with a gentle glow from a fire burning in the hearth. She sat on the couch facing the blaze, her uniform replaced with a simple shift.

“Sit, Bert.” She shifted to one side of the sofa, and he sat down beside her. She leaned into his weight, not close enough to touch but near enough that he could feel the heat of her skin. The veins of black in the marble floor became incredibly interesting to Steiner when she shifted again. His leg bounced in unfettered apprehension.

“Why...is there something you needed at this hour? General?” He asked.

“It’s about the last letters you sent me.”

“Letters?” What was wrong with his last letters?

Upon the table in front of them were two pages. Both sent by Steiner. The first was standard fare for him. Block script and words of love and admiration, talk about the day. It was a letter. 

The second was far more interesting. The writing was still his, but there was a noticeable slant to the letters. The ink looked nearly carved into the paper in some places and accented by spatters where the quill had skipped. Words written in haste. Words written alone and desperate.

He stopped bouncing his leg. Oh no. The gods must enjoy tormenting him.

“This one specifically.”

She read it aloud:

> “My dear lady
> 
> I yearn for your touch. To feel your hot fingers reach into my breeches and bring my prick to life. To hold it fat and stiff as you do your sword until I come into your hands, all the while gazing at me with your singular eye, a star set upon a field of loveliness. To know the taste of your cunt while your lean thighs tremble atop my shoulders. See you strip bare your sword, your uniform, your small clothes, to ride my cock until I am but a formless, boneless husk, all the while you breathe my name like prayer.
> 
> Your every movement fills me with lust - when your hand goes to the pommel of Save the Queen and rubs it in idleness. In tight little circles, how I imagine you touch yourself at night. The way you suck on your bottom lip when you are deep in thought. To see your lips on my prick and take me in your mouth fully. Our sparring matches, the heat of your body close to me. To fuck you into the floor in your padded doublet your skin soaked in sweat. How the curls of your hair moves with every movement. I want nothing more than to-”

The prose was cut as the page had ended. He remembered writing this a few days ago. But it was never intended to be read by anyone other than himself, and especially not Beatrix. And never out loud, although most of the dictation had been drowned out by the hammering of his heartbeat in his ears. The thin line of his mouth was clamped tightly together while he replayed the smut that had spewed from his pen in a night of lustful frustration. How it had been shuffled into his regular correspondence he was not sure. The wind? Fatigue? Perhaps divine providence had seen fit that evening to make a fool of him in every possible way. 

“What does the rest of it say?” She asked her face was an emotionless mask. “How does it end?”

A near reflexive response. “I want nothing more than to see those curls loose upon my bed with you...underneath me...in...um...congress.” He trailed off. 

She peered at him, then at the page, then back toward him as she mulled over the words.

“Congress. Hm. I can’t speak to the quality of your work, but you were somewhat right about one thing.” Beatrix straddled him. She took his hand under her skirt, in between her thighs, where he found she was bereft of her undergarments. She guided one of his fingers around her clit, in tight little circles. “That _ is _ how I touch myself at night.”

The pressure of the nature of the evening’s liaison was released in a heavy exhale. He let out a chuff of an embarrassed laugh. Her hands went to his short cropped hair, raven black shot through with strands of silver. She touched her forehead to his. He continued with the motions on her clit noting that she was already wet. She leaned in closer until her breasts pushed up against him. He nestled his head into her shoulder and pressed his lips against her jaw, down her neck. He felt warm breath brush against his skin, as his motions quickened. He slipped a finger, calloused and thick from years of swordplay inside her and in return she balled her fists in the collar of his tunic and sighed his name. He took his hand away from her, slicked with her wetness. She knealt down onto the couch and against him.

His mouth had gone dry until she smashed her lips against his and...She had snuck her tongue into his mouth! He was taken aback by this oral invasion. Retaliation was in order, and his own tongue purposefully rammed past her lips and soon the two were locked in a duel of a different stripe, where there is no yielding and both parties win.

Steiner didn’t know what to do with his free hand. He settled it on the small of her back.

She unbuttoned his shirt. Her hands roamed inside. She stroked the hair of his broad chest. Where her fingers went they left gooseflesh in their wake. She pinched a nipple under the linen tunic, eliciting a deep rumbling sigh from Steiner. 

“Oh gods, Bea.” He breathed when she broke away. She nipped at the cords of muscle in his throat as her hand went to his trousers. She palmed his cock through the fabric until it grew and hardened, and he began to rock his hips against her. A wicked, sultry grin came upon her countenance. Beatrix planted a quick peck on his lips and pulled back from him and his squirming. She stood and pulled the drawstring of her shift. The garment fell to the floor, and no more was left to Steiner’s imagination.

He drank her in. In the dimming firelight she was transformed from the woman he loved and the general he came to respect, to an allegory of some ancient spirit of carnal desire. A chthonic deity, dark and meant only for those who truly believed.

Beatrix lead him by the hand towards her bed on the far side of the room. Off came his shirt with a resolute pull from his general, flung into the void never to return. His boots came next, another sacrifice to the dark. His pants went last, along with his small clothes, releasing his burgeoning erection. Years of decorum and courtly manners were stripped away once he climbed into bed next to her. She was all that mattered at that moment. 

Steiner’s mouth blazed a trail down to her neck, her collarbone, in between her breasts. He moves to one of her nipples. Revenge for the pinch he received.

“Harder” he heard Beatrix say. His teasing does as he is ordered, but still she demands “_ Harder _.”

He tugged at her with his teeth and she let out a breathy moan. He kneaded her other breast and her sighs grew more pronounced. She moved back on the bed, propping herself up against the headboard and a few pillows. She leaned over to kiss his forehead.

His mouth marched southron, a line of soft wet kisses against her creamy skin only to diverge from the straight line he had made towards her inner thighs. He knelt before her sex, the end of his pilgrimage. 

He looked up at her biting her lip in expectation. Do something! He tasted her in a broad, slow stroke. A symphony of breathy calls of his name as he swirled his tongue around her clit. Something must have been going right. Beatrix writhed against him. He gave a suck on the nub and her sighs grew louder and accompanied with “don’t stop”. And stop he wouldn’t. He probed into her until half his face was buried in her hot, wet folds. The general’s fists clutched at the starched sheets. Her thighs pressed against his head forcing his tongue deeper into her. If he were to die like this he would be content. He resurfaced wiping her from his chin and laid next to her. A lazy smile had fallen upon her flushed facade.

He reached out to stroke her disheveled curls. she leaned into his touch and kissed the inside of his wrist, his thrumming pulse against her lips. The general pushed him onto his back. She traced old scars, a funny thing to have for a man who nearly slept in armor. Down her fingers went, into the thatch of hair between his legs until she found the big vein in his cock with the flat of a nail.

“Bea…” he mouthed. “I...nng…” he was finding it difficult to speak as she made him twitch with the lightest touch.

“Do you want me?” She asked.

“Yes.”

Her fingers found a bead of precum on his tip and spread it around the head.

“Do you want to be inside me?”

“_ Yes. _”

“Will you send me more of those dirty letters?”

The color in his cheeks drained. The letter was a mistake. It wasn’t a declaration of desire but a confession of lust. However, if it hadn’t been for it they would not currently be in such a lovely compromising position. But if the filth he penned were to end up in the wrong hands, one of her soldiers, one of _ his _knights. 

Must it always be letters that bring him closer to her?

“If...it pleases you my lady.”

“It does please me.” The General smiled.

She rolled onto him. She took his cock and eased it into her, warm and wet and inviting. He gazed upon her. The burning embers of the fireplace threw no light. She was silvered by the moonlight streaming through the arched windows, her pale skin glossy with exertion. His hands went to her hips and thrust into her, the heat of her cunt blazing against him. Every roll of her hips fanned the flames of his desire. 

“Slap my ass.” She ordered.

He stopped his motions fully. The flames of his desire guttered, but only slightly. 

“I’m sorry did you just say-“

“I said slap my ass, Bert.”

To strike a woman during combat was one thing, but to do so intentionally, and in bed...

He let go of her hip and gave her backside a tap.

“Harder.” She demanded.

He did as he was told, and gave her a light smack with his open palm. She groaned in frustration.

“Adelbert Steiner I am not so delicate, now _ hard-AH _!” His hand came down on her ass cheek like a clap of thunder. Her back arched as ripples of pleasure surged through her body. She leaned back into his hands, now gripping the firm flesh of her cheeks.

He bucked his hips hard into her, their rhythm increasing with every thrust. Becoming more erratic. He reached in between her legs to press against her clit with his thumb. She dug her nails into his shoulders leaving red crescents in his skin. Her sighs grew louder and more pronounced until she finally came with a mewling “FUCK”, legs trembling and skin like fire. One last staccato thrust and he spilled into her.

She fell atop Steiner, the two of them a pile of entwined limbs and gasping breaths. She peeled herself off of him with a twist of her hips.

She turned to look at him. “Congress?” She asked.

Steiner frowned. “What’s wrong with congress?”

“It’s..._ congress. _”

“I didn’t want to repeat myself.” He said with indignation.

“There must be something better to use than congress?”

Steiner sighed, part in jest, but mostly as a rebuttal of her criticism. “I shall try and find other words for you, my lady.”

She smiled, and lazily planted her lips on his cheek.“I hope so.”

She sank into the sheets. He pulled her close to him. He stroked her hair and she nestled her head against the hollow of his chest. There would be talk tomorrow if he stayed, but for once, it didn’t bother him. Let the staff, the guards, let even the queen say something. It mattered not. This divine creature in his arms outstripped and outranked all of them. 

Perhaps there was nothing wrong with letters.

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy howdy. I think I've wanted to write this since the tenth grade.


End file.
